


What Could Have Been...

by AllHallowsEve



Series: Wincest Colored Glasses [14]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Episode: s01e14 Nightmare, Fear, John Winchester's A+ Parenting seen through a different light, M/M, Pre-Slash, Premonitions, Self Loathing, Telekinesis, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 11:15:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14914346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllHallowsEve/pseuds/AllHallowsEve
Summary: Sam's dreams become worse, leading him to meet someone who shares the same history.  It does not end well.  The boys are both scared of what is happening, but for very different reasons.Episode 14 as viewed through Wincest colored glasses.





	What Could Have Been...

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't expect this one to be as long as it is. My version is full of a lot of angst and fear, as is the episode, but in mine, some unexpected smushy memories of the past came through.
> 
> As always this is unbeta'd so please let me know if you see any mistakes that need to be corrected.

Dean’s heart dropped into his stomach when he realized the license plate number from Sam’s nightmare had checked out.  His eyes widened almost imperceptibly but it was enough to have shown that he was worried if his brother hadn’t been so preoccupied with writing down the details of the owner of the plates.

Dean had accepted that Sam was having premonitions, at least mostly.  It was still weird for him, but up till now, they had made sense, the first one was about Jessica, the second one was about their old house.  They were things that Sam would be deeply in tune with. 

But this was different.  This nightmare was about a stranger, happening in several states over from where there were.  This was freaking Dean out.  The disturbing feeling that was growing inside him got even larger when they drove up to the house, and the guy Sam so desperately wanted to save was already dead.

They got out of the car and walked over to the crowd of onlookers.  Dean watched Sam’s face fill with horror when he found out that the incident had played out exactly as he had dreamed only hours before.  And then he watched his brother’s face fall when he realized, if they had been faster, they might have saved him.

It broke Dean’s heart to see Sam taking this so hard.  He followed his brother over to stand against Baby.  Sam whispered his frustration out with, “Why would I even have these premonitions unless there was a chance I could stop them from happening?”

He looked to Dean as he always had, like he could solve any problem, come up with any solution.  Dean felt adrift.  He didn’t know what to even think about Sam having these fucked up premonitions to begin with, let alone why he would have them if it was impossible for him to stop what he saw from happening.

He was also beginning to have a churning fear in his stomach.  What if Sam’s power, or whatever this was, began to grow. What if he suddenly developed the ability to read minds.  The thought made terror crawl up his spine and threaten to tear out his sanity.  His brother could not read his mind.  If he did, he would lose him forever.  He didn’t know what to do.  

He clenched his jaw, not wanting to show any of his mixed emotions to his frustrated, vulnerable little brother.

He was worried about Sam, he even told him so.  Yes it was to deflect Sam away from how conflicted Dean was feeling, but it was also true.  He could tell this was wearing on Sam, and especially the idea that he hadn’t been able to save this man.

They needed to speak with the deceased’s family, but they would be closed off to strangers.  Dean came up with the bright idea to masquerade as priests.  Sam felt it was a new low, even for them, but he recognized it as the right call.  They were guaranteed entrance to the family home, and people naturally felt more compelled to share information with the clergy, especially if, as this family was, they were already part of the local congregation.

The family was forthcoming, but nothing seemed untoward about them or the house.  No spectral energy or rumors of anything odd ever happening in the house before.

The only disturbing thing really was Dean feeling pretty unsettled by how handsome he found Sam in his priest getup.  He didn’t know if it might even spur a new kink for him, he found his brother so alluring, but luckily Sam took it off as soon as they got back to the motel, so he didn’t have to dwell on that fear for long.

The entire situation was rattling Dean’s nerves so he went to his go to zen occupation, of cleaning all their guns and weapons, spreading them out all over Sam’s bed.  Sam went into deep research mode at the small table occupying one of the walls of the room.

By the time Sam was finished, Dean was close to the end of the cleaning ritual, feeling much calmer than he had before.  He began putting the various weapons back together, making small adjustments as he went. Sam detailed the big bunch of nothing he had come up with, sitting on the small area of the bed that wasn’t occupied by hunting paraphernalia.

Sam continued to talk, trying to spitball any option that would explain what had happened, because he was sure, based on his premonition, that the man hadn’t killed himself the way the police were making it seem.

He began rubbing his temples as he spoke, and making pained noises here and there.  It drew Dean’s attention away from his work.  He watched as Sam hunched in on himself, holding his head. 

Dean sat for a moment, a cold feeling coming over his gut, before asking in concern, “What’s wrong with you?”

Sam curled his large body inwards, moving slowly towards the floor in a huddled crouch, exclaiming in groaning agony, “Aah, yeah, my head!”

Dean was off his bed and around to where Sam was, in an instant.  He grabbed Sam by both arms, holding him steady, asking, “What’s going on?  Talk to me.”

Worry rode Dean like a shadow.  Sam looked him in the face, but it was clear it wasn’t Dean he was seeing, his beautiful hazel eyes shifting back and forth as if he was watching a movie. The pain that had twisted Sam’s features into knots, seemed to morph and change, with whatever he was seeing.  Dean searched his face for any clue as to what was happening, while he kept a firm hold on him.

Sam’s eyes found Dean’s, finally making it clear he was seeing Dean and not something else.  His voice was harsh and frayed as he said, “It’s happening again. Something’s gonna kill Roger Miller.”

They flew out the door, Dean trying to not panic over what was going on with his brother.  Trying to focus on getting to the newest potential victim, who just happened to be brothers with the first victim.  Sam was on the phone getting the address, exhaustion mixed with pain, was clear in every word Dean heard.

Dean asked Sam if he was okay.  Sam said he was fine, but Dean tried to make light of the situation by cracking a joke about needing to pull over so Sam wouldn’t ruin the upholstery if he hurled, but the joke fell flat. 

Anxiety was clear on Sam’s face as he confessed a moment later.  “Dean, I’m scared man, these nightmares weren’t bad enough, now I’m seeing things when I’m awake.”  His eyes were puffy and Dean could tell he was close to tears as he continued. “And these visions or whatever, they’re getting more intense and painful.”

Dean couldn’t remember the last time Sam was so forthright about fears and emotions like this.  It shook his already frayed nerves.  He went for the only answer he knew, “You’ll be fine.”

Sam’s voice broke when he begged, “Why is this happening to me?”

“I don’t know, Sam,” Dean didn’t mean to sound annoyed but his fear was ramping up with every sign of vulnerability and uncertainty his little brother was showing.  Dean never handled fear well.  He had to hold it together.  Sam needed him.  “But we’ll figure it out, okay?”

He needed Sam to believe him.  He tried to sound completely sure. “We face the unexplainable every single day.  This is just another thing.”

He nearly lost it when Sam asked, “Tell the truth.  You can’t tell me this doesn’t freak you out.”

Dean could tell Sam’s panic was just this side of becoming uncontrollable.  Dean had to hold it together for him.  He screwed down every fearful thought, every bit of his own petrified emotions, and clamped it all down tight.  He took a breath, then two, then three, not meeting Sam’s eyes when he said as calmly as he could, “This doesn’t freak me out.”

Other than the lie of omission of not telling his brother that he was desperately in love with him, and wanted him so badly he ached for him ever moment of every day, this was the biggest lie he had ever told Sam.  He felt so guilty, but he knew he had to be strong, that in this moment, his showing any emotion other than his deep belief that they would get through this and figure it out together, would make his brother come apart.  He couldn’t allow that.

They pulled up just as Roger was walking towards his apartment, arms filled with a bag of groceries.  The boys tried to stop him, but he had made it clear back at the house that he didn’t want anything to do with the priests.

They followed him to his door, trying to get him to listen, even admitting they weren’t priests, but he refused to listen.  They ran around to the side of the building, Dean kicking in a gate that had momentarily blocked their progress.  Sam found a fire escape and both men raced up it.  Sam’s long legs allowed him to be several feet ahead of Dean.  They were almost to Roger’s floor when a disgusting squelching, clanging sound, stopped Sam in his tracks. Dean raced ahead, and saw the aftermath of exactly what Sam had described from his vision. 

Dean went into recovery and protection mode, telling Sam to wipe away their fingerprints so that the cops wouldn’t know they had been there.  He went inside to check out the apartment and just like at the house, found no clue as to what had killed this latest victim.

Sam was wracked with guilt that he wasn’t able to save this man either.  He waited on the stairs, stewing about the situation until Dean came back out. 

They made their way back down the fire escape and began walking back to where they left the car.  Sam explained to Dean that he had seen a dark shape in his vision, that it had killed Roger.  He was so busy thinking about what it could be and describing it to Dean, that he didn’t even notice where he was.  At the sound of a horn from an approaching car, Dean reached his arm out, laying the back of his hand across Sam’s chest, blocking Sam’s forward momentum to keep him from walking into traffic.

It was such a familiar action, it reminded Dean of the thousands of times in Sam’s childhood, he had had to do that very move, when his nerdy brother would be so engrossed in telling him about his day at school, or about a book he had read. 

It made Dean’s heart lurch, remembering all the times he would listen to Sam’s excited voice, sharing whatever had him on a tear that particular day.  He had loved this man his entire life, but he had no idea what to do for him with these visions.  The need to protect Sammy was so ingrained in his soul that it was antithetical to Dean to even think about not doing so, but how could he protect Sam from something inside himself?

He couldn’t focus on that now, he had to bear down on the case, work it just like any other.  The dark shape, it was something they could fight against, they just had to figure out what it was.  The discussion between the brothers about what it could be ran from a vengeful spirit latching on to the Miller family to maybe it being basically like a curse. 

Trying to figure it out seemed to pull Sam out of his funk. Dean was relieved to hear the tone of his brother’s voice change from the despondency it had been riddled with, to one of research mode that could pull Sam out of nearly anything.

That was, however, until Sam sighed heavily, before saying “Well, I know one things I have in common with these people.”

Dean turned to examine his brother’s face.  “What’s that?”

Sam chuckled sadly before continuing bitterly, “Both our families are cursed.”

Dean was offended.  “Our family’s not cursed.”

They bantered back and forth a bit, both feeling slightly better but still on edge as they drove away.  Knowing they at least had some where to focus, to try to figure out what was going on.

The next day, they put their priest getups back on, going to the house of the original victims to see if there was anything they might learn while focusing on this new aspect of the case.  The wife was resting, but they got to speak with the victim’s son, Max, alone.  Sam had felt for the young man the first time they had spoken.  This time it was apparent to both brothers that Max wasn’t being forthcoming about the family history, but he gave them another clue when he had described the family’s old house across town, where they used to live next door to Roger.  Max had sounded scared. 

Much to Dean’s chagrined relief, the brothers ditched their priest outfits and went to see if they could find any new information out about that new lead. They found a neighbor who had been there when the Millers all lived across the street from him.   He described physical abuse of Max by both, his father and Max’s uncle, men who were now both very dead.

The man said the hardest thing to watch, though, was the step mom.  That she had born witness to all of it but had done nothing to protect Max from it.  The fact that she wasn’t his real mother was news to the brothers, but before they could learn any more, Sam’s head was wracked with pain.

Dean realized what was happening and put his arm around Sam, leading him back to the car. Once the vision faded, Sam explained to Dean that it was Max who was killing everyone, with some kind of telekinesis.  And they had to get back to the Miller house or he would succeed in killing his step mother as well.

Sam realized he wasn’t having visions of the Millers’ deaths because he was connected to the family somehow, the way he had thought. He was actually having the visions because he was connected to Max for some reason.  He tried to explain to Dean that they were alike, both having tough childhoods, and both having psychic abilities. But Dean was not having it.  Telling Sam point blank that he wasn’t anything like Max.  He said Max was a monster, that his being abused didn’t justify his killing his entire family.  That he was just like any other bad thing they had come up against and had to be ended.

Sam was appalled Dean even suggested that.  They sat in front of the Miller’s house arguing about how to handle it.  Sam fought his brother, telling him that Max was a person, and they just needed to talk to him. 

Dean shut the car off in disgust.  Sam’s voice raised an octave when he begged, “Promise me you’ll follow my lead on this one.”

Dean turned to Sam, and examined his face for a moment.  Knowing he wasn’t going to be able to talk Sam down from this, and knowing that when Sam turned those puppy dog eyes on him, there wasn’t much he could refuse to do.  He acquiesced, in defiant defeat he said, “Alright, fine.  But I’m not letting him hurt anybody else.”

He reached over to the glove box, blatantly pulling out his gun.  Sam watched his actions, knowing that he would be all that stood between Max and death by his brother’s hand.

The men busted in the front door of the Miller’s house and both Max and his step mother turned to them in alarm.  Sam and Dean tried to de-escalate the tension they could feel between them, convincing Max to go outside with them to speak in private.  As he followed Dean towards the door, Max glanced towards a mirror and caught a glimpse of Dean’s gun jammed in his waistband.

The front door, that Dean had just barely managed to open, slammed shut out of his control.  The wooden shutters on all the windows clamped closed.

Max looked at the two men standing between him and the door and growled, “You’re not priests.”

Dean pulled his gun and pointed at him. The gun flew out of Dean’s grasp and landed at Max’s feet.

Sam watched in horror as Max picked up the gun and aimed it at his brother.  Max’s step mom tried to intervene but he sent her flying into the nearby kitchen island, knocking her out in the process.

Sam knew that he was the only hope of this not going more horribly wrong than it already had.  He began to talk to Max, explaining that he was like him, that he had been brought here by visions of the Miller men’s deaths and that he had seen earlier that Max was going to kill his step mom.

Max was panicked, not knowing what to believe since the men had already lied to him before. Sam told him he believed he had been drawn there to help Max.

Max refuted that, telling Sam no one could help him.  He was in extreme distress.  Sam tried to talk calmly to him, asking him to let his stepmom and Dean leave and then the two of them could talk.  Dean fought Sam on it, refusing to go away, and that stressed Max out more.  The hanging lamp above the brothers began to shake wildly. 

Sam begged Dean, to take the stepmom upstairs, and just give them a few minute to talk alone. Max finally agreed, but neither he nor Dean were happy about it.

Dean did as Sam asked, took Max’s step mother upstairs and tried to focus on looking after her wounds, but his hands would barely function.  He couldn’t believe he had to trust that Sam would be okay with that psycho.  How could his brother ask that of him?

Sam sat quietly across from Max, trying to understand him.  He told him he was sorry that he had been hurt as child, but Max showed him bruises on his ribs and chest, proof that the abuse had still been ongoing as of last week.  Sam was shocked.  He didn’t really know what to say.  On some level he agreed with Max that the abusers deserved to pay for what they did to him.

But his step mom hadn’t abused him, Sam tried to convince Max to let her go.  Max began to talk about his dad, and how powerless he had felt all his life because his dad had blamed him for everything.  Sam’s blood ran cold when Max explained that his father even blamed him because his mom had died in his nursery when he was just a baby. 

Sam swallowed hard around the lump in his throat but couldn’t shake his growing fear, as Max continued to explain that his father would get drunk and say that his mom had burned up, pinned to the ceiling above his crib.

Sam couldn’t believe it.  He took it all in, and then tried to explain to Max, that it was all real.  That what his father had described wasn’t just drunken ravings of a madman, but what actually happened to his mom.  That Sam knew it was true because it had happened to his mom too, exactly the same way.  Sam realized that this is why his visions had gotten more intense and begun happening during the day. That the two of them had been chosen somehow, and he explained his theory to Max about it all.

Told Max that he and Dean were on a hunt to get what had killed their mom, and Max’s as well.  That they would find it, but in order to do so, Max had to let them go.  Sam watched Max’s face as he seemed to calm, but then when Sam said he had to let his stepmom go too, Max’s face changed back into fury. 

Sam stood between Max and the stairs that would lead him up to his step mother and Dean.  Sam had to try to convince him not to do this.  That killing her wouldn’t make his fear go away.  It would only bring him more pain.

But Max was beyond reason.  He shoved Sam into a closet telekinetically, and blocked the door with a large wooden hutch.  Sam beat on the door frantically, screaming, “No!”

He couldn’t let Dean get caught in the crossfire of Max’s distress.  Sam’s mind went blindingly white as another vision poured across his brain.  This time he watched in terror, as Dean tried to defend Max’s step mom.  Putting his own body in harm’s way to keep her safe.  Max used Dean’s own gun to splatter Dean’s precious blood and brains all along the bedroom wall.

Sam cried out in fear and panic from where he was trapped.  He couldn’t let that happen.  He couldn’t live without his brother.  The despair he felt turned suddenly to rage and he screamed, “No!”  Power shot from his body pushing the huge cabinet away from the door. 

Sam’s breath momentarily stopped, as he stared at the bright light streaming in the slats of the closet, which had been mostly dark from the shadow of the hutch only a minute before.  He pushed at the door, staring in confused disbelief as it swung open.  Sam ran up the stairs two at a time, praying that he would get there before it was too late, for once.

Sam burst through the bedroom door, just as Max used his mind to pull the hammer back on Dean’s gun, where it hung in the air between them.

Sam couldn’t shake the image of Dean lying on the floor with a bloody hole in the center of his forehead.  He begged Max not to do it.  He told him they could help him, trying to convince him that killing them wouldn’t fix anything.  Max took a moment to think about it, finally admitting to Sam that he was right.

Sam smiled shakily in relief, but then watched in shocked horror as Max turned the gun on himself and ended his misery once and for all.

Sam couldn’t shake the guilt. The entire time he listened to Max’s step mother lie to the police about what happened, he just felt ill.  If he had only said something different or managed to convince Max to give him just a little more time, surely the outcome would have been different.  He was so lost in his own head that after the cop told them they were free to go, Dean had to slap him on the shoulder to pull him out of his dark reverie.

He followed Dean out to the car, confessing all that had been running through his brain.  All the ways he had failed Max.  Dean tried to get him to cut it out, to stop beating himself up. 

Sam stood staring at his brother from across the roof of the car, and told him one thing he had realized from this debacle.  Dean stared at him in disbelief as Sam expressed, “We’re lucky we had Dad.”

The first moment it hit Dean’s ear, he waited for the snarky follow up, but it never came.  He searched Sam’s face for the catch, but there was none.  His brother was being straight up with him.  Saying that he realized after what had happened to their mom, if John hadn’t turned to hunting, he might have taken everything out on his boys the way Max’s father had on him.

It hit Dean squarely in the chest.  Making him happy in a way he wouldn’t have dreamed.  If the two people he loved most in the world could find a way to get along, he could live the rest of his life happy.

Sam even gave their dad credit for them turning out okay, all things considered.  Dean repeated the last back to Sam with a wry, “All things considered.”

Sam noticed Dean had a strange look on his face, but didn’t know what the enigmatic brother of his was thinking.  Dean was thinking that he wasn’t sure Sam, nor their father would think Dean had turned out okay if either had any inkling of what Dean wanted from his baby brother. 

On another note, Dean wasn’t sure what to do about Sam.  His kid brother was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders about this Max guy, along with all the other deaths Max had caused.  Believing they were on him, for not being able to get there soon enough, not being able to put all the puzzle pieces together in time to save anyone.  But he was wrong.  He saved Max’s step mother, and Dean himself, if the glare Max had given him over the barrel of his own gun, was any indication.

They drove back to the motel in silence, both churning over their own thoughts.

While they were packing up their belongings and loading the car, Sam began to speak again.  Asking Dean if he thought it was possible the demon that killed their mom, and Max’s and Jessica, might have actually been after Sam and Max somehow.  Because they both had abilities, maybe the demon was after them. 

Dean felt like this was Sam’s way of again trying to make all these deaths his fault.  It couldn’t be farther from the truth.  Dean felt it deep in his soul.  Sam was innocent in all this.  He tried to reassure his brother that if the demon had wanted them, he would have just taken them.  But he hadn’t. So it had to be something else He tried to assure Sam that they would find it and kill it and that would be the end of it.

Sam was petrified to tell Dean the other thing that had been eating away at his peace of mind.  Dean had seemed to take in his premonitions so much better than Sam could have hoped, but his powers seemed to be ramping up.  What if the news he had for him was the straw that broke Dean’s back and made him shun Sam.  Made him realize he wasn’t worth Dean’s time or trouble.

He had to do it though.  He couldn’t keep this secret from Dean.  So he told him, that he had moved the giant wooden cabinet with his mind.  Just like Max could do.  Sam was scared, not just about Dean’s reaction, but he was scared of what was happening to him.  It seemed like whatever it might be, was building somehow, getting more intense.

Fear filled Sam with dread, as he watched Dean absorb what he had confessed.  Dean’s face gave nothing away.  He took a couple of breaths before turning to the kitchenette area and grabbing a spoon, holding it out toward Sam, saying in all sincerity, “Bend this.”

Sam huffed in frustration.  Telling his brother he couldn’t turn it on and off whenever he wanted.  That actually he couldn’t control it at all.

Dean was confused.  He asked Sam if that was the case, then how did he do it with the cabinet.

Sam swallowed hard, “I just...”

Sam took a deep breath, remembering the scene with Dean lying dead, it had felt so real.  He admitted, “I saw you die, and it just came out of me, like a punch.”

He knew it had to do with his panic over watching Dean die.  He would do anything, anything he had to do in order to stop that from happening.  But he couldn’t form those thoughts into words.  Not with Dean staring at him from across the room.  He felt raw, felt like the confession had somehow shown Dean his darker desires for him and he was waiting for a storm in response. 

It never came.  Dean’s face was blank, as if what Sam had confessed about the new ability was no different than Sam saying that his hair was brown.  As if he was completely unfazed by all of it.

Dean turned and began to pack again saying only, “I’m sure it won’t happen again.”

Inside, however, Dean was screaming at the top of his lungs.  His chest burned from the panic bouncing around inside every cell in his body.  Something was going on with his baby brother, and Dean felt for sure Sam was in danger somehow.  He couldn’t see the angle of what the demon was playing at.  But he felt down to his bones, that he had to figure out what was going on before something bad happened to Sam.  He felt impending doom in a way he couldn’t remember ever feeling. 

But besides all that, there was a darker more pressing problem.  Sam’s powers or abilities or whatever they were, seemed to be increasing or growing and what if it was only a matter of time before Sam could pick up on the lust Dean felt for him every waking moment of every day.  He couldn’t leave Sam’s side, because he didn’t know what danger the demon held for Sam.  But he had to find a way to stop wanting Sam, to stop being in love with him.  But he knew from experience that that was impossible.  He had been trying to fight these feelings ever since he realized he had them.  If more than a decade of trying hadn’t given him the strength, he didn’t know what more he could possibly do.

All he could do at this moment was hide.  Hide everything he was feeling, hide as much of himself as he possibly could manage.

Sam was so full of fear over his own abilities.  He didn’t know what was happening and his nerves were frayed.  Instead of Dean’s calm demeanor helping him, it made him feel more out of control, like somehow Dean wasn’t taking all of this serious enough.  He turned on his brother lashing out, “Aren’t you worried that I could turn into Max or something?”

He stood waiting for the blow to come.   The admission that yes, somehow Dean thought Sam capable of being that kind of bad apple.  Sam knew Dean had no idea about his incestuous longing and love for him, but it made Sam feel rotten, wrong, every day of his life.  Surely that kind of horrible quality could twist him into the same kind of danger Max had become.  As he stood watching Dean fold his jeans, fear pounded Sam’s chest, making it hard to breathe.

His brother didn’t even pause his actions, as he said, “Nope, no way.”

It was said with the same kind of certainty and strength that Dean had when he was aiming his gun.

Sam couldn’t believe it, felt it was impossible that Dean didn’t see his corrupt core.

Dean continued, explaining that Sam had the one thing that Max didn’t have, that would keep him from turning out broken.

Sam’s face fell, asking in disbelief, “Dad?”

Sam couldn’t believe that was what Dean thought would save him.  He wasn’t even here, and John had never been able to keep Sam from going off the rails, under the best of circumstances.

Sam’s open scared face stared at Dean, reminding him for all the world of the six year old Sam that used to come to Dean, when he would wake up, and be afraid of the dark.  Sam was beautiful and innocent, Dean’s heart swelled in love and devotion as he answered, “No, me.” 

Dean gave a cocky smile, the same one that was his shield from showing every real emotion he had ever felt, but in this instant he meant every word he said to his brother. “As long as I’m around, nothing bad’s gonna happen to you.”

Sam watched as his brother walked slowly towards him, with almost every possession he had to his name in a duffle, slung across his shoulder.  Dean told Sam he knew exactly where they needed to go about his premonitions.  Sam waited with bated breath to hear what brilliant solutions his savior had come up with to fix this.   With a straight face, Dean said one word, “Vegas.” 

Once the idiocy of his meaning hit Sam, he couldn’t help but crack into a relieved laugh.  It broke the tension, which is exactly what Dean knew his little brother needed.  Sam huffed and rolled his eyes, taking all his own possessions and dumped them in the trunk, before taking his seat in the car.

Dean followed slowly, turning the light off in the room.  His heart was heavy, pounding with anxiety, and 22 years worth of fears, that he would somehow fail to live up to his promise.    

**Author's Note:**

> So this one ended on a much sadder note than the last one. I hadn't remembered the scene at the end, and how much I again feel for our poor Dean. I mean, poor Sam too, he is the one that this is uncontrollably happening to, but poor Dean, has no backup. He is all alone, with the weight of protecting Sam, all on his shoulders.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it. I am off to work on the Benders episode. I know several people are waiting patiently for it, so I am jumping in...
> 
> *Thank you to MsGer for pointing out the glaring mistake that has now been fixed!!!*


End file.
